


Bonds and Hope

by LessAttitudeMoreAltitude



Series: 2018 Whumptober [8]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: A little more depressing than i originally intended, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabbles, Multi-Chapter Drabble, Serious whump, Torture, Whumptober, but a bit of hopefulness at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessAttitudeMoreAltitude/pseuds/LessAttitudeMoreAltitude
Summary: The Seventh Sister captures Ezra in hopes of turning him into her own apprentice





	1. Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely the whumpiest of my fics this month, so be warned.
> 
> (Yes, I'm using the 'Kidnapped' prompt twice this month. I'm replacing 'Showdown' with it because I honestly couldn't think of a good showdown drabble.)

The inquisitor let out a growl of frustration. “Why can you just not  _cooperate_? Why do you compel me to inflict pain?”

Ezra groaned, his eyes squeezed closed as he held up his mental shields. His head ached as she clawed and ripped at them.

“You know we’ll find the others…” She knelt down in front of him. “... so why not just tell me where they are?”

Ezra grit his teeth, glaring up at her. “Because unlike you, I can shut  _up_. You’re like a broken protocol droid!”

“Shh…” The Mirialan pressed a finger to his lips. It was a gentle, almost loving gesture. “Hmm, you hide your fear well. Poor child,” she cooed, brushing her fingers gently along his cheek. “If only you had the power to protect your friends.”

“Shows what you know,” Ezra growled. “I’m growing more powerful every day!”

She let out a low hum, still stroking his cheek. It sent chills up Ezra’s spine. “You are a pretty one…”

Ezra’s stomach clenched. “What?”

With a smirk, she stood and pulled out her lightsaber. “I think it’s time I had my own apprentice.”

Before Ezra could process her words, she slammed the hilt of her saber against his head, knocking him out cold.

\---

Ezra moaned as he climbed his way back to consciousness, his head aching. “Wha’ ‘appened...?” he moaned. He tried to touch the sore egg on his head when he realized he couldn’t move his arm. Frowning, he tried to lift his head only to find he couldn’t move it either. What was going on?

Then he remembered. The old medical center, the Inquisitors, the Mirialan woman knocking him out…

Ezra jerked against his restraints more earnestly. He was laid out on some kind of table, tight durasteel cuffs wrapped around his arms, legs, torso and forehead, effectively immobilizing him. He can’t believe the inquisitor kriffing  _captured_  him!

He growled in frustration. He looked around, trying to see if there was anything he could grab with the Force so he could pick or break these cuffs open. With his head strapped down, he couldn’t see much. Just the ceiling and just the tops of each wall. The room was small.

His breathing quickened, panic squeezing his chest tightly. He didn’t like this. He felt helpless. Useless. He tugged against the restraints again unable to smother the whimper that escaped his throat. If he didn’t get out… He shuddered to think of what that inquisitor was going to do to him.

“Kanan…” he murmured, trying to reach his master over his bond. “Please find me…”


	2. Torture

“It’s a good thing I found you,” the Seventh Sister cooed. “Your ‘master’ was clearly a poor teacher.”

“Suck a rock,” Ezra murmured between pants. He was still cuffed down on the same table, but now it had been rotated so he was practically standing. Across from him was the inquisitor, several durasteel balls floating around her. Her little probe droids were chirping and crawling all around Ezra on the table.

She walked up to him, tracing a nail along years-old scars on his chest. “You’re clearly not unaccustomed to pain,” she observed. “I would have thought you would be holding out better…”

Ezra just shot her the meanest glare he could manage. Then she pressed a finger against one of the fresh bruises, and he could help but cry out, his breathing quickening as he breathed through the pain.

“Embrace it…” she said, pushing harder and making Ezra groan. “The pain, the fear… wrap it around you like a warm blanket. Let it feed your hatred.”

“I’m… not… afraid… of you…” Ezra growled between gritted teeth.

The Seventh Sister laughed, the sound grating on his ears. “You will be, little one. You will be…”

The droid clamped down at his arms, and cold agony shot through him as they electrocuted him once again. Ezra couldn’t help but scream. It felt as though every nerve in his body was consumed in cold fire.

When it stopped, Ezra slumped in his restraints, but braced for what he knew was coming. The inquisitor shot her hand forward, launching the durasteel balls at him.

As she had explained earlier, the point was to stop the balls with the Force before they hit you. To let the pain of the electrocution fuel his power.

But just like every time before, Ezra couldn’t muster up enough concentration. The balls hit him hard, cracking his ribs, fracturing his bones, and leaving deep bruises.

The inquisitor tisked with he yet again failed to stop a single one. “Of course, maybe it’s not just your ‘master’. Maybe you’re just not as strong as you thought you were. It would explain why Kanan Jarrus hasn’t bothered to come for you.”

Ezra let out a choked sob, mentally telling himself to deny it. But a small voice, the same one that had haunted him when he first joined the Ghost, was starting to take hold of him. This cycle of electrocution, being beaten when his nerves were so raw, and relentless taunting was weakening his defenses and overwhelming him. He had been hurt while on the streets, but never this systematic, seemingly unending torture.

The Seventh Sister walked up to him again, caressing his cheek. “I promise, little one… If you can stop one ball - just one - we can stop for the day.”

What Ezra wanted to say was “Kriff you” or “Your breath stinks” or something equally quippy. Instead, the words died on his tongue as his brain latched on to the prospect of this sick game finally ending.

It must have shown on his face because the Seventh Sister’s smile widened. The droids clamped back down and Ezra let out a small whimper before the pain ripped through him once more.

And the cycle continued. Ezra lost count how many times he was shocked and beaten. It was only when he finally stopped one of the balls just short of his sternum that his eyes rolled back, and he fell into blissful unconsciousness.


	3. Drugged

Ezra had no idea how long he had been in this room. He was given water. The occasional bite to eat. But between the bouts of unconsciousness and the disorienting sessions of ‘training’, Ezra had lost all track of time.

There was only one constant in his life. His bond with Kanan. It was strong enough that he could sense his master’s fear, his worry, his promise that he was coming. Ezra only hoped he wasn’t just imagining it. He wondered if Kanan could sense him as well. Could Kanan tell what he was going through? Could Kanan sense how close Ezra was to completely losing it?

He hoped not.

Now the inquisitor was doing something completely new. Ezra was trying not to panic as she slid a needle into his arm. It was an IV attached to a slow drip bag. Ezra shivered, fear coiling in his belly.

“Don’t worry, love~” She stroked his face, a familiar gesture at this point, one that always made Ezra’s insides curdle. “There will be no training today. I have something much more important planned.”

And then she left. His relief was tamped down by his fear of whatever this cold liquid slowly infecting his veins was. He was trembling, once again jerking against the restraints uselessly.

The lights suddenly shut off, and Ezra jerked in surprise as he was plunged into darkness. The lights had never gone off before. He swallowed compulsively, trying to keep his breathing steady as he reached for his bond with Kanan.

Only to find it slippery. And rapidly shrinking.

“No!” Ezra gasped. “Nononono…!” He started hyperventilating as he tried to grab hold of the bond, but it was useless. It was slipping away, cutting itself off. Hot tears slipped down the sides of Ezra’s face. “Kanan...! Kanan,  _please_!” he sobbed, useless as it might be. He couldn’t do this alone.

Then bond winked out of existence and Ezra felt as if a limb had just been ripped off.

This couldn’t be happening.  _This couldn’t be happening_. It had to be the drugs, right? It wasn’t like Kanan had given up on him, right? Did he sever their bond because he got themselves captured so easily? After all, what use was a padawan who disobeyed orders and couldn’t even stop a few little balls...?

Ezra sobbed and choked, unable to catch his breath. He was desperately searching and grasping for the bond, for any inkling of Kanan’s presence. His panic and terror grew with every second he failed to find anything.

He was abandoned in this cold and dark room. He was all alone with nothing but his own pain and the sounds of his own pathetic whimpers pressing into his brain.

He was alone.

He was  _alone_.


	4. Restraints

Ezra had spent every moment of his captivity on this exact table. Not once had these cuffs been so much as loosened.

He was tortured on this table. Fed and watered on this table. Drugged on this table. Hosed down on this table.

Maybe… the next time the Seventh Sister trained him - if he did a good enough job - she would let him get up. She’d let him walk around. Hell, even if she’d just undo the one on his head so he could move it from side to side, it would be a huge relief.

Maybe he could ask. Or maybe he should beg. Not that begging has worked so far, but maybe…

Ezra let out a shaky sigh, tugging useless on the cuffs once again. It hurt. A lot. Sharp spikes of pain shot up his arms and legs. He was pretty sure his bones were broken beneath his restraints, but it was hard to tell. Frankly, Ezra doubted there was a single bone in his body that wasn’t broken.

The door opened, and Ezra sobbed. Was it time for more training already?

“Hello, my pet~” the inquisitor practically purred. The table whirred and turned until he was in an upright position facing her. She walked up and gently caressed his body. “Did you get a good night’s sleep?”

Ezra trembled, straining against the cuffs as he tried to pull away from her touch. 

She suddenly grabbed his chin, squeezing it painfully hard. “Answer me!”

“Y-Yes!” Ezra gasped.

She dug her nails into the skin of his chin. “Yes, what?”

“Yes… M-M-Master…” Tears ran down his face, hating himself for betraying Kanan so easily.

The inquisitor seemed satisfied. She let go, and her probe droids floated up to him. Ezra moaned at the sight of them, trying to once again jerk free and run away. He knew what was coming, and he was terrified. “P-Please…” he breathed.

“Not until you manage to stop  _all_  the targets.” She sat down, the dreaded balls floating up into the air.

Ezra sobbed as the droids clamped down, bracing for the inevitable. Kanan would have passed this test easily. Ezra just couldn’t manage to push through the pain and terror enough to concentrate on all the targets at once. And he was punished severely each time for his failure.

He was weak. Useless.

No wonder Kanan left him here.


	5. "I can't walk"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never actually said, but it's in the spirit of the prompt

“Oh gods…” Kanan breathed. His stomach rolled at the sight of his padawan. Shirtless, he was strapped down tightly to a durasteel table, his body covered bruises and sweat and a few trickles of blood. His body was trembling uncontrollably, his eyes unfocused as they stared up at the ceiling.

Kanan ran up to him. “Ezra…!” He cradled his head in his hands, running his thumbs through his tear tracks. He still didn’t know why he couldn’t sense Ezra or their bond in the Force, but he was  _here_. He was  _alive_.

Ezra’s eyes zeroed in on Kanan, though they were still unfocused. “... Kan’n…?” he whispered, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.” Kanan pulled away to look for some sort of release for the restraints. Ezra’s whimper was a needle to his heart, but they needed to get out of here fast.

He found the locking mechanism, and the restraints all popped open. Ezra let out a sob in relief, trying to move his limbs but finding them mostly unresponsive. 

Kanan grabbed Ezra’s shirt and jacket - which looked to have been tossed aside at some point. Gently wrapped them around Ezra’s torso, Kanan bit his lip and lifted Ezra off the table, forcing himself to ignore the yelp of pain. “I’m sorry, kiddo…” he whispered. “But we need to get out of here  _now_.” 

Kanan held Ezra tightly, trying to minimize the jostling as he ran. He kept tried to find Ezra in the Force, but it was like he wasn’t even holding a person. There was a yawning gap in the Force where his padawan should be. Almost as if he was dead.

But he wasn’t. He was alive. He was hurt, terrified, and borderline catatonic, but he was  _alive_.

He couldn’t focus too much on it now. The inquisitor was trapped, but only temporarily. He had to get back to the Ghost so they could make their escape.

Then… Then they would deal with everything else.


	6. "Stay"

Kanan was certain that holding Ezra like this was causing him physical pain, but he didn’t really have much other choice in the matter. Earlier, when he had laid Ezra on the medical bed and stepped back to let the medical droid work, Ezra had panicked.

“No! Please! I-I can do better! I can! I  _promise_!”

Which was why Kanan was now laying on the bed with Ezra, holding his padawan tightly against his chest as the droid scanned him. Dressed in a medbay robe, Ezra was staring into space, his body still trembling. The few open wounds he had had already been treated with bacta and bandaged.

“Multiple hairline fractures, focused primarily on the ribs and collarbone,” the droid said. “However, there are additional fractures along both tibias, humeri, radia, and ulnae.”

“What kind of treatment does he need?” Hera asked.

“A bone knitter should suffice, but it will take some time. And the patient should limit his movement for at least the next week.”

Kanan tried not to think about it. He was just smoothing Ezra’s hair back, rocking him slightly. Honestly, he needed this physical contact just as much as Ezra did. With Ezra’s Force signature still distressingly lacking in the Force, Kanan need this to reassure himself that Ezra really was here and alive.

The droid began the slow process of waving the bone knitter over Ezra’s limbs and torso. Ezra didn’t seem to even notice. Eventually, his eyes slipped close and he slumped against Kanan.

“Kanan…?” Hera said quietly.

“Yeah?” Kanan whispered back.

“You should get some sleep too,” she pointed out.

Kanan gave a small nod but didn’t move. She was right, of course. He had hardly had more than a few hour of sleep since Zeb and Sabine called them, saying that Ezra had been taken by an inquisitor. And it only got worse when their bond inexplicably vanished.

To his surprise, Hera didn’t try to make him go back to his own bunk. She placed a hand on his arm. “Stay.” She grabbed a blanket and laid it over the both of them. “Comm me if you need anything.”

He nodded, giving her a small smile of gratitude. “I will.”


	7. Seizure

They were all back on the Ghost now. The bone knitter did its job and the only other injuries Ezra had were deep bruises. Painful but not life threatening.

Since then, Ezra had refused to leave Kanan’s side. In fact, he hardly ever broke physical contact with him. (Going to the refresher had been a difficult to say the least.) Ezra hasn’t said much since being rescued, but he has said that he can’t sense Kanan either. It was obviously causing him horrible anxiety, but the physical contact was helping to alleviate it.

The days passed, and the Force began to trickle around Ezra. At first it was just his presence in the Force. His signature was slowly growing and warming up again, as if it had been lying dormant.

Then their bond sprang back to life. Well, more like  _exploded_  back to life.

For Kanan, it was like a hot spear being driven in his brain. Thankfully, the pain and tidal wave of emotions quickly passed for him. Not so much for Ezra.

His padawan had collapsed to the ground, grunting as his body seized and jerked. Kanan blinked his tears of pain away, stumbling towards him. “Ezra…!”

It felt like an eternity, but it was probably just a few seconds. Ezra’s body went limp, his body trembling as a sob bubbled out of his throat. Kanan could feel Ezra clawing at their bond. “Hey, hey, it’s okay…” Kanan gathered him up in his arms and held him tightly. “I’m right here.”

Ezra curled up tightly against Kanan’s chest, crying harder than Kanan had ever seen. Flashes of what he had gone through were shooting across their bond. What the inquisitor had done to him, the pain, fear, hopelessness…

“Shh…” Tears quietly fell down Kanan’s face as he rocked his padawan, guilt clawing as his stomach. He should have found Ezra faster. He should have insisted Ezra never go to that old medical station...

When his sobs dissolved into shuddered breathing, Ezra let out a shaky sigh. “I-I’m sorry…” he murmured.

“Don’t,” Kanan choked, running his fingers soothingly through Ezra’s hair. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

He could sense shame and guilt curling around his padawan, and Kanan wrapped himself around those sticky threads to shield Ezra from them. He continued to rock and comfort Ezra as he shoved the threads aside and reassured him that none of this was his fault.


	8. Severe Illness

The bond between his and Ezra’s Force signatures seemed healthy enough, but as the days turned into weeks, Ezra seemed to be permanently fatigued. He spent most of his time sleeping, and when he was awake his mood was subdued. It was a little unnerving to see Ezra so quiet and downcast. Kanan was sure something else must be wrong.

Hera gazed at Kanan disbelievingly. “You’re joking, right?”

“What? We know that inquisitor drugged him. These could be side effects.”

“Kanan…” Hera gave a sad sigh. “I think he’s just depressed.”

Kanan opened his mouth, but then closed it again. It made perfect sense. He should have realized it earlier. He was just so focused on Ezra’s physical and Force injuries, other explanations didn’t even occur to him.

So now, several weeks after Ezra had been saved, after his physical and Force wounds had healed, Kanan set out to help his mental ones too.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Kanan said to him.

“I know,” Ezra said, but it was an automatic response.

Kanan pressed his lips together. “Even about what happened with the inquisitor,” he said quietly.

Ezra stiffened. “Y-Yeah… I know.”

Kanan waited, but Ezra didn’t say anything else. He let out a small sigh. “You don’t have to talk to me… but you should talk to  _someone_.”

“Why?” Ezra squeaked. “It won’t change what happened.”

“Do you remember when you first told us about your parents?” Kanan said. “It might have been hard - painful, even - but in the long run, keeping it all bottled up would have made it even worse.”

Ezra crossed his arms, staring intently at the ground. He was breathing deliberately deeply, and Kanan could sense his anxiety rising. “I don’t want to talk to anyone else…” he muttered.

Kanan placed a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m not pushing you. Just know, when you’re ready… you’re not alone.”

Ezra nodded, leaning up against Kanan’s side. “I know,” he replied softly.

It was just the beginning of a longer journey. But Kanan knew they would both be able to see it through.


End file.
